


Variations on a (Sordid) Pastime

by badass_normal



Category: Calvin & Hobbes
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-01-26
Updated: 2011-01-26
Packaged: 2017-10-15 03:08:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,141
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/156409
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/badass_normal/pseuds/badass_normal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They grow up, but never old.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Variations on a (Sordid) Pastime

Now

“Calviiiiin, it’s really bad sportsmanship to tackle a girl—and I thought we decided that it wasn’t allowed—”

“No game of Calvinball is ever the same,” he reminds her for the approximately ninety gajillionth time. “That’s the _one rule_. Why are you the only person who doesn’t _get_ it, Susie?” His fierce point is kind of ruined as his voice cracks awkwardly on the “u” in her name.

She struggles beneath him and manages to flip herself over so they’re face-to-face. And just like that, just like _always_ , he wants to try something new.

It’s sloppy and sticky when he kisses her, saliva on their chins and their noses bumping into each other stubbornly. But after a few fish-like openings and closings of their mouths, their tongues figure out what to do.

Later, he’ll allege that he planned it from the beginning. She will never believe him.

 

A few years later

…And then he stops.

“What. The _fuck_?” she screeches.

Calvin is frowning, like she isn’t right in front of him, naked and wet and only a few strokes from an orgasm.

“We’ve done this before,” he says thoughtfully, his thumb stilling on her hardened nipple.

Her arousal has become just about unbearable at this point, boiling deep inside her, her recently abandoned clit pulsing in sync with her racing heartbeat. And he’s not noticing _that_ because he’s thinking about, he’s, he’s _fucking thinking about fucking Calvinball_ —

“Your shower, my fingers inside you.” He absently flicks at her nipple and she moans unintentionally. “Last summer, after the pool party—”

“ _Who-fucking-cares-just-make-me-come-you-little-shit!_ ” (She can’t have always been this shrill. Really.)

Of course he doesn’t listen. That’s one thing about Calvin that’s never changed.

“You know the _rule_ , Susie.” He leans back against the shower wall opposite her and seems to be ignoring the fact that she’s panting and desperate and _he’s_ so obviously hard that all she can think of when she looks at him is that she fucking _wants him inside of her now_.

“We can’t have intercourse in your shower either. We did it face-to-face in here back in tenth grade, I did you from behind a few days later. I licked you senseless up against this very wall last week, so oral is out of the question as well. What can we _do_ that we haven’t already done?”

“For fuck’s sake, Calvin, this is our _sex life_ , not a game of Calvinball!” She leans her head back under the heavy pressure of the showerhead and despairs. She might as well turn down the temperature to snap her out of this. Or…

He perfunctorily diverts her hand from its destination of between her legs. “And you can’t get yourself off with me watching, because of that one time,” he continues. “Shame we’re not in _my_ shower, you haven’t done that in _there_ yet—”

“I’M GOING TO FUCKING _CASTRATE_ YOU—”

“No game can be played the same way twice,” he insists. “It’s always been that way.”

For a moment, the water pounding against the floor is the only sound. Then his eyes dart up to the extendable showerhead and a calculated smile flashes along his lips. “Oh,” he says quietly.

Her eyes widen as he wriggles it loose and she _throbs_ , falls back against the wall in heavy anticipation. “Do it,” she manages. “Just—fucking—”

He parts her legs and slides the showerhead between them and his eyes, his _eyes_ , spark bright and mischievous and sultry and as turned on as she is—and she makes this shameless _noise_ as the gentle but firm water pressure hums against her swollen, aching clit.

“See, trying new things makes this so much better,” he quips with a casual and infuriating smile, shifting the showerhead to an angle where—

“Oh—oh _God_ —” she’s moaning like he’s _paying_ her, or something, writhing helplessly against the hard surface behind her, and his other hand is tangling in her dripping hair, his mouth descending to her right nipple, sucking, licking. Hot and a completely different kind of wet. “Just—just keep on— _fuck_ —”

“This is making me think vibrators are kind of underrated. We should get you a vibrator. There are so many familiar locations where we could do something we’ve never done before. Do you think you’d _like_ that, Susie?”

He’s trying to have a fucking _conversation_ with her? Fucking _really_?

Then again, while it’s so _not_ sexy, it’s also so _him_ , and she comes with a high-pitched whine, her palm slamming back against the wall behind her, hips violently bucking forward again and again until all that’s going through her brain and her body is a long string of _fuck yeah_ ’s and technicolor, potent, metaphorical fireworks. Respectively.

“Yeah, vibrator,” she gasps as she comes down a little, the hot water rendering her even more limp and satiated than she would be anywhere else. “I’m finally eighteen, I suppose I can legally purchase one now.”

He raises an eyebrow and she follows his gaze downward to the urgent erection almost touching her hip.

She wants to wrap her fist around it, or get on her knees and suck him off, or climb him and take him into her and ride him until his orgasm draws that familiar growl from his throat—

They’ve done that all before. In this shower.

She smirks. “I’m afraid there is nothing I can do to your _penis_ that hasn’t already been done in this particular location.”

And she turns her back on him and skips out of the shower.

“ _God_ , revenge is sweet,” she purrs over her shoulder.

He whimpers behind her.

 

Many years later

“GOAL!”

Calvin spikes the would-be volleyball with the same ecstatic energy he’s had since he was five years old.

“No no, Daddy. I changed the rules.” Bill ambles arrogantly forward, folding his arms in very real sternness. “If you _say_ that you score, the goal doesn’t count.”

Susie mimics their son’s stance. “ _Yeah_ ,” she agrees.

“Well,” Calvin retorts, with a much less candid seriousness than Bill’s, “ _I_ just changed the rules too. Because I _spiked_ the ball, all your rules made in the past four minutes have been rendered null and void.”

Bill’s face melts into an amused confusion. He looks to his mother. “What’s that mean?”

She looks directly at Calvin with a conniving grin in her eyes. “It means that Daddy has always been and will always be a sore loser.”

He can’t hold back his delighted laugh once his son starts giggling and he’s transported back to a different backyard, a long time ago, with only a stuffed tiger and the annoying girl from across the street for company.

The rules change with the players’ imagination but the spirit of the game remains the same. He’s known since that first kiss that as long as they have Calvinball, they’ll never grow old.

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, Bill is named after creator Bill Watterson. It's the least I could do, after doing this to his lovely comic.


End file.
